


Revenge is a dish best served cold

by Flanker27_UK



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29289762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flanker27_UK/pseuds/Flanker27_UK
Summary: A very none Canon short storyA tragedyI was in a bad mood mopping the floors and this bubbled up, I bounced it around Denmark St Discord and decided I would write itThey say you should try all styles of writing
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	Revenge is a dish best served cold

Strike huddled down under the groundsheet covering him, disguising him from all but the most determined eyes. The airbed underneath keeping him from feeling the hard roof or the cold. But in reality he hadn’t felt anything at all for the past one year, four months and twenty one days.

Since

His mind drifted back to the last 3 weeks of the trial, the second attempt at trying the Ricci brothers, the first in the Old Baily had been abandoned. Nico and Luca had, in their own sweet way, intimidated the Jury to such an extent that the Judge had no alternative but to call a mistrial and schedule another.

In a way Strike had been pleased, as much as any such emotion existed for him now, when to avoid the same occurring, it had been rescheduled to be held in Winchester Crown Court, the second oldest in the land, now hosted in a hideous 1970’s building. The move made his options easier.

He hadn’t missed a day of the previous or this event, sitting alone in the public gallery as the prosecution outlined how the gangster brothers had decided to remove Strike, who had been a thorn in their sides. Instead finding his beautiful assistant in the office alone decided to have some ‘fun’ with her and hurt him far worse than if they’d simply killed him.

Strike had sat stony faced as the appalling attack had been laid out in the dry dusty tones of the Barrister, the Oxbridge accent doing nothing to ease the sheer horror of the events unfolding.

But if they had expected a compliant weak female that wasn’t what they had got. Robin had fought like a Tigress, the list of injuries inflicted when used by the defence to try to claim the Ricci’s were just acting in self-defence did give Strike some satisfaction and filled the jurors with horror.

Luca had several broken bones in his foot, inflicted by a stiletto heel, also he would no longer be able to father children, the amputation of both ruptured testicles had seen to that. Nico wore the evidence on his face, the puckered scar and missing eye evidence of the ferocity of Robin’s defence and the damage that could be inflicted with a bread knife.

The prosecution using the hospital records from where the brothers had staggered, leaving Robin to die on the floor of the place she loved, one flight of stairs from the small home she had built with her partner. It should have been an open and shut case.

But this was the Ricci’s their tentacles had spread across Hampshire and Strike could see the frightened looks the members of the Jury were casting at the accused.

He knew what would happed

He knew Robin wouldn’t get justice this way.

Strike had always strove for justice, so he made his plans.

He wasn’t in court for the verdict, he knew what it would be, he prepared to administer justice himself.

His old training now came to the fore, a discussion with Shanker and several thousand pounds had produced what he wanted and several days practicing in the woods had refreshed his skills.

His phone was by him relaying the breaking news that the Jury had found the brothers not guilty and that they had acted in self-defence, the breathless commentary that they would be going live to the court where the acquitted were expected to appear shortly on the steps of the building.

Strike grunted and settled the AW50 into his shoulder, breathing easily slowing his heart rate, focusing everything on the cross hairs in his eye-line, the doors to the court, the press in a scrum, luckily at the bottom of the steps leaving his targets in plain view.

He worked the bolt, chambered the .5 inch round, more than enough for his purpose. He had five in the magazine, he was hoping two would be enough.

Then there they were grinning holding each other’s hands in the air in triumph the press shouting questions, camera’s flashes peppering them

Strike drew his bead, it was only 300 metres from the roof of this car park, hardly any wind and for a man with Strike’s sniper training it was child’s play

He held his breath, squeezing gently, then almost surprised when the gun kicked back against his shoulder. He worked the bolt with practiced ease, the next round slipped snuggly home while he shifted his aim a fraction, to Luca’s face, mouth wide in horror, as he took in his brothers head which had just exploded all over him. Before he could react Cormoran’s second round arrived and his brains intermingled with the gore of his brother, the crowd screaming and dashing all directions, one brave cameraman standing firm, sending the visceral horror live to people everywhere.

“Justice for you Little Bird”

Strike knew Shanker would be sitting in the BMW, waiting to whisk him off to Portsmouth and a ferry out of the country, but Strike had never really intended to use the escape plan, it was only there in case he had missed and would need to be able to come back for another attempt.

“Sorry Shanker”

Strike pulled the 9mm Browning from the pocket of his cavernous coat, racked the slide and put the barrel in his mouth

Then with a final look around the world, the white fluffy cumulous clouds floating in a summer sky, the approaching howl of sirens, the ambulances who would have no one to save, he’d done a good job, as he always did, Robin had got justice.

_I’ll love you forever Robin_

He pulled the trigger.

\--------

Strike came awake slowly, he was more comfortable and relaxed than he could remember, he seemed to be floating on feathers. Everywhere was bright and light and clean, he swung his legs over the bed he was lying on, hang on legs? He was whole again? What’s going on

“Hello Corm my love”

He heard a familiar, voice

“Joan?”

She hugged him so tightly

“We’ve been waiting for you”

“We?”

He looked up, and she threw herself into his arms, “Oh Cormoran, I’ve missed you so much”

Blue Grey eyes, Fiery Golden hair overwhelmed his senses

“We’re together again

Forever”


End file.
